


Yes, Miss Shepard

by lionessvalenti



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Play, Episode: s04e07 Compromising Positions, F/F, Femslash, Painplay, Plot What Plot, Shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the case is over, Sara goes to see Shepard to pay for everything she'd done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, Miss Shepard

The rules to being in Landon Shepard's bed had turned out to be quite similar to those of being her client. You don't question her methods or her means, you do everything she says, and you get what you want.

Sara's shoulders were growing stiff as her arms were twisted behind her within an intricate leather harness. She was stark naked and her knees throbbed against the hardwood floor. They'd be black and blue by morning, and she'd have to wear pants to work on Monday. It was a small price to pay.

Shepard stood in front of her, fully dressed, her hands on her hips. She studied Sara's face for a long time until her gaze slowly dragged down the rest of Sara's exposed body. Her cool, collected, slightly bored expression never changed. Then she shifted her weight onto one foot, and pressed the sole of her high heel between Sara's breasts, pushing her backward.

As Sara toppled over on her side, all she could think was, _how'd she do that and keep her balance?_ Sara was an expert at walking in even the highest of heels, but standing only on one foot.

Her arm hit the floor first, with her elbow wedged into her side, and her shoulder slammed against the waxed and polished oak. The pain rippled through her body, but it wasn't bad -- just a surprise. She looked up at Shepard from the corner of her eye, awaking the next instruction. Of course, falling over hadn't been much of a request as... something that happened.

"On your back," Shepard said.

Sara tried wriggle off of her side, but she felt like a turtle who'd ended up on his back and couldn't get his legs under him. Humiliation began to well up in her, knowing how ridiculous she must look, naked except for this leather contraption, writhing around on the floor while Shepard just watched. However, Sara liked being watched, and now that her knees had relief, it was her cunt that began to throb. Finally, she got both feet on the floor and was able to shift her weight to roll onto her back.

Shepard stepped over Sara, her feet on either side of Sara's body. She moved over Sara's face, and that was when Sara realized that Shepard wasn't wearing any panties. Sara's mouth began to water, wanting to lift her head and stick her head up that skirt.

Sara had a feeling that when she agreed to help Peter with his case that it might end this way. Shepard would understand, but she wouldn't let it go. They had a mutual respect, much like the respect she shared with Peter, with one very distinct difference: Sara actually _had_ slept with Shepard.

"I don't know what you think you were accomplishing," Shepard said. "If you think I didn't know who your Steve Tabernacle was. Believe me, I know who Neal Caffrey is, even before you began dating him. I thought, maybe, at first that you were giving me an alias for him because you were embarrassed about who he was. When I realized it was an FBI job, I wondered how little they thought of me, that I wouldn't recognize a man who had been on the cover of the newspaper just two years ago. The man you dated for several months."

It should have been weird thinking about Shepard knowing who she was dating, but Sara knew it was in Shepard's best interest to know everything about everyone. That's how she was so good at her job.

The muscles in Sara's arms tensed up, the pain running through her biceps and triceps, molded into the same position for too long. It'd be all right if she could just get her head up off the floor, if she could give her arms any relief. Her fingers began to tingle at the tips. She knew she should say that, that her position was cutting off her circulation, and she'd probably be punished for letting it go on so long, but it felt like something she should be able to bear. She didn't want this to end, so she held on, letting the pain creep up into her shoulders.

Shepard stepped back, making it clear that standing over her had only been a show of what was to come. She knew how much Sara wanted it. "Answer me: why did you choose Burke over me?"

"I knew you'd be able to get out of any charges that were thrown your way," Sara replied. "And I owed him one."

"And you didn't owe me anything?"

"I've never paid him for his favors." It was harsh, but it was the truth. "It was just work. It wasn't personal."

Shepard's mouth twitched at the corner. "Of course it was personal." She paused, and with a sigh asked, "How do you feel?"

Stiff. Sore. Aroused. They were all correct answers. Sara swallowed and said, "My hands are tingling."

Without so much as a word, Shepard swooped down and grabbed a hold of the leather harness. She turned Sara over onto her stomach and released the straps holding her arms behind her back. Now, there was a new pain: relief spreading throughout her muscles. Her arms flopped down to her sides, and her fingers felt like they were being pricked with needles.

"Stay," Shepard said, even though Sara had no intention of moving. A moment later, Sara felt the sole of Shepard shoe pressed against her ass, and then the unmistakable pressure of a spiked heel digging into the soft, sensitive flesh. Sara gasped as quietly as she could (which wasn't quietly enough, as she felt the heel press harder) and she could feel her clit throbbing to the beat of her pulse. She might be able to come from just this. She writhed against the floor, as though it would give her some relief, and Shepard laughed.

"Are you turned on, Sara?"

"Yes, Miss Shepard." It had been exhilarating to call her that in front of Neal and Peter. Word that were uttered in darkened bedrooms, in pain and pleasure, said in a brightly lit conference room. As collected as she'd been on the outside, she had felt her panties dampen at the words. She had excused herself to the restroom after, locked the door, and masturbated in the stall until she'd come twice.

What she wouldn't give to come now.

"Do you want me to do something about that?"

It was a trick question, but Sara answered honestly, "Yes, Miss Shepard."

"I'm not going to," Shepard replied. She pressed her heel in further, and Sara was certain she was going to break the skin. "You're going to give me what I want first. And I think you'll like it. Turn over and sit up."

It was easier this time, with her arms free, to get onto her back again. The muscles in her forearms protested as she sat up, leaning her weight onto them, waiting for Shepard's next command.

Shepard pulled her skirt up slowly, revealing inch after inch of her legs, knowing exactly how she was torturing Sara. With her skirt bunched around her hips and her cunt exposed, Shepard stepped forward, and Sara knew what to do.

She leaned forward, running her hands up the outside of Shepard's smooth legs until she had a grip around her backside, holding herself up. Sara rubbed her nose against Shepard's coarse pubic hair, breathing her in. This is what she had wanted from the moment she stepped into the apartment.

"Get on with it," Shepard said, but there was a hint of compassion, even amusement, in her voice. She knew how much Sara enjoyed this, and how she liked to savor it.

Sara darted her tongue out and ran the tip along the crease, getting her first taste, teasing herself more than Shepard, and then plunged her tongue in. She found Shepard's clit, and she couldn't hold back anymore. With an embarrassingly loud slurp, Sara wrapped her lips around Shepard's labia, tugging on it the way she had been told to years before. Above her, she could have sworn she heard Shepard gasp.

Wetness spread over Sara's chin as she rubbed her tongue over Shepard's clit. She could feel Shepard's legs quivering, and she loved knowing that for everything Shepard did to her, she could do it right back.

Shepard pushed her hands into Sara's hair, her nails scratching across her scalp as she moved even further forward, her thighs boxing in around either side of Sara's head. "That's good," she mumbled.

Sara squeezed the soft flesh of Shepard's ass, clinging to her as though for dear life. If she hadn't been holding on to her, Sara knew her hands would be down between her own legs, fingering herself, unable to control it, until she had come. Every time she was here, she was certain that she'd never been this aroused in her life. She swallowed and sucked on the clit, and she could feel Shepard's orgasm blooming around her.

"More," Shepard said, pulling on Sara's hair.

Sara moaned, nearly coming, and gave Shepard her all. She pressed her tongue harder onto Shepard's clit, digging the tip just off the side, into the slightly swollen skin around the clit hood.

Without a hint of a whimper, Shepard came. Her legs tightened and after a moment, she let out a long, loud breath. She released her grip in Sara's hair and smoothed it door. "Good girl," she said. "You can let go."

Sara let go out Shepard and she fell back onto the floor. Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and ran over her lips. She looked up to see Shepard lowering her skirt and carefully running her hands over the wrinkled fabric. She smiled down at Sara and pressed her shoe against Sara's bare cunt, and Sara gasped, sending a spark to every part of her tired body. Shepard kept putting on and taking off the pressure, like she was pressing the gas pedal on a car. Sara reached up and began pulling at her own nipples, letting the pleasure overtake her.

While Shepard had come quietly, professionally even, she liked Sara loud, giving her every bit of her orgasm, and it didn't take long for her body to be submerged completely into it. She cried out, her voice echoing against the walls and floors of the sparsely furnished apartment, and dug her nails into her breasts, the pain sending her further over the edge.

After Shepard had worked every last bit of pleasure out of Sara's body, she felt deflated. She closed her eyes as she tried to catch her breath, and she felt something brush against her cheek. She opened her eyes slowly and next to her was Shepard's high heel shoe, the tip wet, and Sara knew exactly how that happened.

"You're not done," Shepard said. "Clean up your mess."

Sara grinned and rolled back onto her stoomach. Her tongue still had more work to do.


End file.
